


Life Without You

by Rucksack (wingblade)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Kingdom Hearts II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingblade/pseuds/Rucksack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lea misses Roxas, and Sora tries to bring him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 30 Day Dark Fandom/OTP Writing Challenge on tumblr. Title is inspired by the Stanfour song.

It is one week before Sora has decided to stage “the Attempt,” as Lea calls it. Sora is gathering his strength to be able to call back all those held within his heart. Since leaving the tower, Lea has wandered the streets of Radiant Garden. By night, he retires to the castle, having nowhere else to go. He will never have a true home again until his friend has returned to him.  
  
It begins this night.

* * *

The other ex-Organization members who returned with Lea are staying in the castle, too. Because of this, he does not feel alone; there is always someone to bump into around the corner. Usually it’s Ienzo or Even, who are always running around looking for or reading books, or conducting some sort of experiment, and, as both have impatiently chanted at Lea, “arming themselves with knowledge.” And there are always the scuff and squeaks of various pairs of shoes meeting tile at all hours of the day. Occasionally Even or Ienzo, or even both, have long, tedious nights, but they never cause much of a racket.  
  
Everyone’s steps hold a different tone, and Lea has grown accustomed to each. When he closes his eyes, he can almost hear the soft padding of his best friend coming back to see him, too.  
  
As a Nobody, Lea slept as much as he could. Between work and his friends, he found himself dozing more often than not. Now, as a “complete” being, he finds he can barely sleep at all. He’s lying back on a lumpy mattress he found in one of the abandoned bedrooms. Ienzo had quietly told him the room once belonged to their master, Ansem. Lea joked that he thought a classy guy like Ansem would have had better taste. It has been a long time, though, and despite having never met them, he can feel the ghosts.  
  
There is a deep anger held within these walls; sadness, regret, deceit. Vengeance. Ansem’s study had originally been a disaster with broken shards of glass, torn papers, and overturned furniture littering the floor. There were a lot of cobwebs, too, which made Lea shudder. Even and Ienzo have cleared most of that up, however, and that is where they spend the majority of their time.  
  
Lea’s hands are cradling his head on the pillow, and he’s staring up at the ceiling like he once watched the sunset. There’s a noise at the door — it’s a strange sound, almost like the soft drag of a fingernail, but he assumes it’s someone running around the corridors, trying to knock. Maybe Even has his hands full and is ramming his elbow into the door, here to cart off Lea on some scientific adventure yet again. He has to assume this.  
  
“What is it?” he calls. When there is no reply, he waits. He’s about to close his eyes before he hears the scratching on the door once more — soft, slow, genuine strokes against the wood. He shrugs and finally drags his body up to throw open the door.  
  
But, of course, no one is there.

* * *

In the morning, Lea kicks open the door to Ansem’s study, shouting, “Ienzo!” He’s fully expecting the slate-haired man to be passed out over the desk, but he’s sitting down with a book open in his lap. Another five or so litter the desk. Lea glances over them — stuff about hearts and worlds and darkness, as usual.  
  
“You’re up early. When’d you get to bed?” Lea asks.  
  
Ienzo turns a page without looking at him. “I retired quite early, actually. What are you trampling about for this time of morning?”  
  
“And what about Even?”  
  
“I’m not sure if you honestly expect me to know or care.”  
  
“Alright, how about a cat?” Lea presses. “Did anyone decide to adopt a lovable kitty-cat?”  
  
Ienzo closes his book, leans back in the chair, and looks up at the redhead curiously. Lea describes the scratching he heard the night before, and Ienzo assures him no one has brought home any sort of pet.

“Assuming you’re not delusional, we could set up surveillance if it happens again tonight,” the man offers. He allows the smallest amount of excitement to bubble over in his voice, and soon Even has joined them. The two are practically holding hands and dancing in a circle in front of Ansem’s computer as Lea scratches his head.   
  
“What if this is some sort of manifestation?!” Even exclaims, slamming his hands on the desk.  
  
“You sound happy,” Lea replies warily. As a Nobody, Vexen had been extremely reluctant to help others. If it didn’t fit in with his experiments or theories, it was a waste of his time.  
  
“This might very well fit into our research. Have you even seen your door since last night?” Even snaps, thinning his eyes.  
  
“Well, no, but why would I —”  
  
“Precisely! I just so happened to pass by your room on my way here, and I must say I was initially appalled. I thought to myself, ‘What could have caused Lea to maul his door in such a way? Does he take himself for an artist?’ This is entirely presuming, of course, that Aeleus and Dilan haven’t lost their minds and started traipsing around, carving up people’s doors.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I was the laughing stock of my school’s art class,” Lea groans, rubbing his neck. “What’s your point?”  
  
“It should be obvious, shouldn’t it? The pattern was of a most peculiar shape. That is, the shape of a heart.”

* * *

Lea spends a long time looking at his door tonight. Despite his shoulders aching and the muscles of his legs straining to keep him upright, he traces every splintered edge with his fingers. If anyone walks by, he drops his hands to his sides and raises his brow at them, as if standing in front of his door for hours isn’t uncommon for him at all.

Who would carve a heart into his door? Out of everyone who came back with him, he is the one receiving this sign, so why him? And whether or not it’s a prank, who could be doing it?

* * *

For the next few nights, Lea can’t seem to warm himself. Even begins to complain, seeing as how he lives on the brink of ice in his veins and can’t comprehend why this is so bad. Mostly, though, he’s frustrated at there not having been any more signs of his theorized manifestations. Ienzo has brought up Ansem attempting to contact them from his plane of existence, but maybe Even is hoping Xemnas is trying to bring him back. He did live for his experiments in the Organization, after all. Bring up his projects in Castle Oblivion, and the man would probably start drooling.

Besides, how can Lea be a fire-conjurer and cold at the same time? According to Even, this is “highly improbable,” seeing as how Lea literally has the element of fire at his fingertips. How can Lea explain that this coldness is like a shroud, seeping inside of him?  
  
When Even has gone to bed, Lea asks, “If he thinks it’s Ansem, why would he have left me the message?”  
  
“He…” Ienzo catches his breath. “He doesn’t think it’s Ansem.”  
  
For all the probing questions that follow, Lea is awarded no answers.

* * *

When Lea returns to his room, he kicks over the heater Ienzo lent him. On its highest setting, it still provides little warmth. He does not feel ill or sickly; there is no runny nose or cough to speak of. There’s nothing but a coldness sucking at his skin.

Learning to summon and wield a keyblade has been exhausting his energy — and his patience. He has an end-game plan in mind, however; he always has. There have been some bleak, hopeless moments: once Roxas came along, there was something strange growing inside him. And when Roxas walked away, there has been nothing more he has come to regret than not remaining by his side. Now he’s here to bring Roxas back, like he promised. Sora is a boy unlike any other, but he’s not Roxas. Lea has sworn to fight by his side because of this.  
  
His collection of blankets has grown to three, now, and he burrows into the small cave he’s made, trying to find warmth. Whether or not he’s lucky to be spared the scratches tonight, he’s not sure. This is no ordinary sensation. When he’s in his room, it’s as if he’s left the window open on a winter’s night, and this wouldn’t bother him so much if he could figure out how to open the room’s lone window outside of smashing it. There’s a breeze blowing that he can’t hear. It’s just here, moving closer, then farther away, like it’s circling the room. Pacing.  
  
“If you can give me a sign,” Lea calls out, faint puffs of breath escaping his lips, “that would be great because it’s really — freaking — cold.”  
  
There’s no response, not that he expected one. Once the coldness comes so close it’s crawling up his neck, his eyes begin to water, because he’s never experienced anything quite like this.

* * *

“So you’re scared,” Riku deadpans, arms crossed over his chest.

“No. I’m not scared. There’s nothing to be scared of. It’s just weird.”  
  
“I’d be scared if I were being haunted,” Sora says. “Probably.”  
  
Lea’s mouth hangs open slightly with unspoken retorts. He came to see Sora, but he and Riku come in a pair. Riku has matured since impersonating the Organization, but he’s still extremely protective of Sora.  
  
“Hey, now,” Lea replies. “I never said that.”  
  
“But that’s what you’re saying,” Riku jeers. Sora tosses a stray shoe at him before he can continue, but Lea has his answer. He had a theory that maybe Sora could feel this difference; this anomaly. Now, Lea feels more alone than ever, but Sora’s smile warms him.  
  
He’s glad he came.

* * *

It is the night before the Attempt, and Lea is stalking the corridors with his hands in his pockets. He surprised Aeleus on the way to his room so badly that he screamed, but Lea promised not to tell. Who would he tell?

Staying in motion is helping keep him warm.  The castle is a maze, full of dead-ends and halls that twist in on themselves until he finds himself back where he started. He’s starting the process all over again when he sees someone in a black coat turn the corner. No one else living here wears the coat. All he saw were the dark coattails and heel of a boot, but he’s jogging now, moving faster and faster, because there’s only one person that small in the Organization. He meets a dead-end, and the person is just rounding the corner behind him. This time, he sees the golden hair fall into the slim shape of their body, and he can deny it no longer.  
  
“Roxas?”  
  
He chases the figure back to his room where the door is wide open, with the contents of his nightstand strewn across the carpet: the envelope Roxas had left him. The “winner” stick is peeking out and he picks it up, holding it to his lips.

* * *

Even finds him lying in the same spot with the door open in the morning. He doesn’t ask questions; probably because he has better ways to spend his time than examining Lea's abnormal sleeping habits.

“The boy is here for you,” Even huffs.  
  
Sora. Sora is here to escort him back to the tower so they can bring back Roxas. Lea peels himself off the floor, sweat covering his body as he stretches his limbs. Why couldn't his eyes stay closed? He feels groggy, so groggy, like he’s been awake for days.  
  
Lea walks up the steps outside the castle and finds Sora alone, looking out over the empty expanse of Radiant Garden. When he turns to face Lea, his eyes are red.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Sora mumbles, and Lea shakes his head. He can’t stop. “I’m sorry, Lea. I’m sorry. We were going to surprise you.” Sora squeezes the redhead’s shoulders and nearly collapses, but Lea grabs onto his arms.  
  
“You knew I wanted to be there,” is all Lea can say.  
  
“Yeah.” Sora wipes his eyes with his arm. “I’m sorry. But I’m glad you weren’t there. Please. Believe me on that.”  
  
“I believe you,” Lea murmurs, even if he really doesn’t because he at least would have needed — wanted — to say goodbye, but the longer he stays vocal, the easier it feels to drift away.  
  
“I guess he… couldn’t hold himself up outside of me. Not like before. Because he was born from… It doesn’t matter. That doesn’t matter. You knew better than anyone that he was his own person.”  
  
“No. Not as well as you.”  
  
Sora looks up to the sky dreamily, and he smiles.  
  
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he says.

* * *

There is a boy laughing with his friends. At first glance, the most striking figure is a woman with cropped blue hair, but when she leans back to laugh, he sees the blond who is Roxas but is also not Roxas. Lea can tell simply by looking at him and not only because his Roxas never smiled like this, but because his Roxas is gone.

Their eyes meet, and it’s the same blue. The teen excuses himself from his friends and comes to stand before the speechless Lea.  
  
“My name’s Ventus, but you can call me Ven.” It’s the same voice, but so much happier; devoid of the pain and confusion Lea once knew. It’s a painful reminder that things could have been so much different. Ventus' lips dance at the corners, as if remembering a personal joke.  
  
“Did you know him?” It seems like a stupid question to ask, but the heart is a complicated place, and to his surprise, Ven nods his head.  
  
“It’s hard to explain,” Ven says, “but he was a part of me just like Sora was. We communicated without speaking. More like with feeling.”  
  
“And he’s gone because of you?” The moment he says this, he feels an insurmountable urge to punch himself. Ven’s eyes open wide, brimming with unshed tears. Lea itches to reach out to him.  
  
Ven replies, “I think so. I don’t think… we can both exist here at the same time.”  
  
This is the boy Sora had wanted him to meet? There is an unimaginable pain rising in his chest. He smiles shakily and turns to leave, but Ven grabs his arm.  
  
“I’m not him. I never can be. But we all felt what each other felt. I want to be a part of your life.”  
  
“Because of what he felt, or despite it?”  
  
“Both,” Ven answers.  
  
“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” Lea mutters, and Ven’s lips quiver again. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… yeah, okay? Yeah. I’d rather have you in my life than not. Just gimme some time. Ventus… Ven.”  
  
Ven wraps his arms around Lea’s waist, who pats his head and holds him close.  
  
It’s sad but happy, too.

* * *

Sora’s watching the twilit sky surrounding the tower, his palms supporting him beside his hips. Lea sits by him.

“I think he was saying goodbye,” Sora says.  
  
“That would mean that he knew,” Lea breathes. “That it wouldn’t work.”  
  
“I guess so.”  
  
“He sure had a weird way of saying ‘bye, then.”  
  
“I think it was more than that, Lea.” Sora leans forward and hugs his knees. Lea may have lost Roxas, but Sora physically lost half of himself; he can’t let himself forget this. “I think he was trying to tell you that… he loves you.”  
  
At this, Lea cries. He hasn’t cried since he faded away and met Roxas in the next life. Roxas left him then, too. To be with Sora. Roxas is always leaving him. But this time, it’s for good.  
  
“I wish I could have told him. So many things. But mostly, that I wished I would have left with him that day.”  
  
Sora puts his hand on Lea’s and says, “I think he knew.”

* * *

Lea lies upon his bed, the covers beneath him. Now as he looks up at the ceiling, he sees nothing. There is no canvas on which to paint one’s dreams and desires. There is nothing.

Beside him, the drawer of the nightstand creaks open quietly. This registers in Lea’s mind as something definitely out of the ordinary, but his eyes are tired, and he has succumbed to the nothingness.  
  
 _Maybe Aeleus is shaking the earth_ , he tells himself. _Or maybe I’m dead._  
  
He’s sick of the things that are “out of the ordinary,” or “manifestations,” or manifestations of Even’s ego. He just wants things to be the way they used to be.  
  
There is a gentle tap as something hits the floor. He knows what it is, but he can’t tear himself away from the nothing. He isn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry.  
  
A firm coldness presses against his forehead: to comfort, to madden, to love.

Despite the sealed window and the closed door, the wind whispers:  _I never left you. I never left._

**Author's Note:**

> This story is so many things. It was inspired by events that happened to me around late October, and the only way I knew how to deal with the strange happenings were to write about it. I've wanted to write about Lea re-meeting Ventus, so I fit that in here (I'm still not sure if he'd remember Ventus as someone he met long ago, or as a Roxas look-alike). The story originally ended with Sora and Lea sitting outside the tower, but something else happened a few weeks after the first occurrences, so I thought it fitting to include that as well.


End file.
